


Infatuation, Saturation

by Brachydios



Series: Here We Are Again, Once More [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Humor, Misunderstandings, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 03:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brachydios/pseuds/Brachydios
Summary: Roy Mustang accidentally overhears a portion of a conversation shared between the Elric Brothers, which leads him to believe Alphonse has a crush on him. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, nor is he equipped with the ability to handle a situation wherein, not only a child, but Fullmetal's brother, supposedly fancies him.





	Infatuation, Saturation

**Author's Note:**

> *writes this instead of doing my essay*  
> this is companion piece to my last fic "Going Home, Becoming Whole" which is about Alphonse realizing he's gay and coming out to Ed. it's not necessary to read that one to read this one, all you really need to know that A) Al is gay and B) he has recently come out to Ed.

 “So like, seriously, what _is_ your type?”

“ _Brother_.” Alphonse all but groans, slouching back into the couch as the two of them relax within their shared dorm in Central. The two of them had recently came back from an assignment in East City, wherein within the train ride to their location Alphonse had - albeit shakingly - told his brother he enjoyed the company of boys rather than girls.

It was a relief to come out to his brother, whom had gently coaxed the confession out of him, allowing the younger Elric brother to come out at his own time. It was an experience that felt as though Alphonse was released from a great pressure that constricted him, and that he was allowed to breathe freely. He’d say it was a moment that made him felt all warm and fuzzy inside, with his armour body feeling gooey with reprieve if that wasn’t an embarrassing assertion to make.

Alleviating as it may of been, comforting to bare himself to his brother, closest friend, the only person he would sooner die for than let die, his brother also seems content in trying to be the most annoying person on the planet.

“C’mon Al,” Ed says, relaxing himself on the opposite couch facing Alphonse, wearing that stupid smirk he has when his teasing his little brother, “I’m trying to make up for lost time here.”

“You mean you’re trying embarrass me with your new fodder of the fact I’m gay,” Alphonse corrects, voice flat, “which is probably a form of discrimination.”

Ed gasps in mock offense, bringing his hand to his chest, “Alphonse Elric I would _never,_ ” Alphonse sighs heavily as he brings a gauntlet to palm his face, both out of pure exasperation and also to hide his view of Ed - because if he has to see his brother wear that stupid expression he has when he’s being a pain, Alphonse just might slap him.

“You’ve got to have a little more faith in your brother, Al,” Ed continues, leaning forward again as he cups his chin with both hands as he peers innocently at his younger brother, who glares through the gap of his fingers, “I need to know so when we get your body back, I can be a decent matchmaker for you.”

Alphonse isn’t exactly sure what is the sound he makes, but its a mix of a groan and a strangled whine. He stares at his brother somewhere in between the realm of dismayed and horrified, with a pinch of _If you give me the opportunity, I will not hesitate to do grievous bodily harm to you_.

Alphonse, of course, knows his brother is being his trademark self of being a buffoon, but the mere mental image of Ed attempting set him up with other gentlemen - a candlelit dinner, Alphonse sitting across from a man who attempts to woo him. Almost romantic, but Ed is there, pointing a gun at the man’s head, with a small smile on that reads _Break my brother’s heart and I break you_.

It’s nightmarish. _Ed’s_ nightmarish. His older brother is the bane of his existence, vanquisher of romance and destroyer of dreams.

Alphonse has half the mind to simply stand and walk out of the conversation, bringing his hands to cover the side of his helmet where his ears would be if he had any, singing a tune of _blah blah blah, not listening!_ and refuse to acknowledge his brother’s existence again. But the part of him that wants retribution and justice has he continue to sit across his brother, yearning for the equivalent exchange - in exchange of his own mental scarring, he needs something equal from his brother.

Alphonse massages the side of his helmet, where his temples would be, deliberately making his annoyed body language as clear as it can be, “I suppose ‘tall, dark and handsome’ isn’t enough for you?” he mutters.

Ed shrugs, emitting a small hum, “it’s a start,” Ed grins wider, “does Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome have a _name_?” His voice is riddled with a light sense of mockery, the waggling of his eyebrows making him look like a clown.

The idea that pops into Alphonse’s head is so devious, so absolutely malicious, that it’s positively perfect.

“ _Well_ …” Alphonse murmurs, shifting himself in his seat, adopting a more bashful posture, averting his gaze. From his peripheral, he sees his act immediately works, his brother’s expression changes in a flash - genuine interest, honest surprise, brows risen to his hairline, and Ed leans forward.

Alphonse has always held the stance that manipulation was the work of a person with no honour, but when life gives you the opportunity, then you would be a fool not to pass it up. And Ed makes it too easy. _Far_ too easy, and revenge is a dish best served like a pie to the face (specifically Ed’s face).

“Well…?” Ed coaxes, an eyebrow raised, the corners of his lips turned upwards into something more sincere. Alphonse would almost feel bad by taking advantage of his brother, but at the moment his own sense of morality is put on hold for this one time. He’s earned it, just this one time.

Alphonse continues his sheepish play, maximizes his appearance of a shy suit of armour by bringing his hand to twirl the hair that comes out his helmet between his fingers. He’s certain to anyone else it would be obvious he’s putting up an act, but Ed’s too distracted by the fact his brother may be confessing a crush to him to actually use what little of a brain he has to take any notice.

 _Hook, line and sinker_ , Alphonse thinks, before he continues.

“He _is_ very handsome,” Alphonse sighs, dreamily, “hardworking and _so_ dedicated. His voice is nice to listen to, as well.”

Alphonse looks to his hands, fiddling with his fingers as he thinks a shy schoolboy would do. He steals a glance as Ed, who titled his head.

“Is it… someone I know?” Ed asks, slowly, and Alphonse can see, physically, the cogs of Ed’s brain working as he attempts to mentally list out every man and boy they’ve ever known or come into contact with.

It feels so right to lie to Ed, maybe he should do it more often.

Alphonse nods, slowly, and he sees Ed’s face light up.

“Well now you’ve _got_ to tell me.” Ed says, so intensely engrossed with the fantasy Alphonse has spun that the younger Elric would almost feel guilty for leading his brother on like this, if he didn’t know that the pay off would be so just.

“Well, I mean - “ Alphonse says, bringing a hand to rub the back of his head in faux nervousness, mentally cackling like a maniac.

“C’mon,” Ed pleads, leaning even more forward, “you can trust me, Al.”

Heartwarming, certainly - enough to make Alphonse cease what most certainly break the brothers’ bond? Absolutely not.

“It’s just…” Alphonse fumbles, “It’s - it’s _embarrassing._ ”

“I promise I won’t laugh,” Ed says, and Alphonse knows if he were actually to confess a crush, that Ed is lying. He _would_ laugh, because it’s _Ed_ , “ _please?_ ” Ed pleads, seemingly trying to use puppy dog eyes on his brother.

Alphonse huffs, “Fine.” he mutters, and Ed looks like he’s about to receive the Philosopher's Stone.

Alphonse squares his shoulder as he prepares himself - both in keeping in line with his act and that he is genuinely composing himself for the oncoming maelstrom that is about to be erupted between them.

It may destroy their relationship, but it will be _glorious_.

“Colonel Must-”

Alphonse knew by “confessing” his “crush” would elicit a strong reaction from Ed, but he hadn’t thought the mere utterance of the name would make his brother burst a blood vessel in the brain in less than a second, not even enough for him to even _finish_ saying it, as if the name itself were imbued with a curse.

“ _Colonel Bastard?!_ ” Ed all but _shrieks_ , and there’s a blinding moment in which Alphonse thinks Ed’s going to level the building with his voice alone.

Alphonse holds the laughter that threatens to boil over, instead holding his hands in front of him in defence, “You- You said I could trust you!”

“Yeah, you _can,_ ” Ed says, his face a wave of disgust, “which is why you can trust me when I say that you’re _crazy!_ ”

Its Alphonse’s turn to gasp in mock offense, “ _Brother!_ ” Alphonse whines, making his voice sound as hurt as he can while also attempting to hide his giggles - Ed’s face is _priceless_. The utter and clear _betrayal_ is so genuine and real that Alphonse almost feels guilty. Almost.

“Just- Just because _you_ don’t like him,” Alphonse cries defiantly, perhaps his performance of a someone challenging their family’s expectations and values is broadway worthy, perhaps it's a career option he should look into, if the blind rage in Ed’s eyes are any indicator.

“Doesn’t mean _I can’t love him!_ ” Alphonse boldly claims. If Alphonse tries enough, perhaps he could conjure the fluttering of rose petals to stream romantically across the air around him.

Ed is too wrapped up in the thought that he may be in a reality where his brother may legitimately be in love with _Colonel Mustang_ (and the resulting rapid succession of going through all the stages of grief as his mourns his brother’s standards) to realize his brother is attempting to stifle laughter.

(And both brothers are too preoccupied to notice the faint click of their dorm door closing).

“No!” Ed says, nearly heaving, his brother’s assertion that he loves _Colonel Fucking Mustang_ frazzling any sort of rational thought, on the verge of losing his goddamn mind.

“Absolutely _not,_ ” Ed growls, voice thick with disapproval, “Mustang’s a dumbass and a bastard - Not to - Not to mention _thirty years old!_ ”

Ed points an accusatory finger towards Alphonse, seething with an odd mixture of fury that Mustang was able to bewitch his brother and urge to protect Alphonse from what is clearly a mistake, “I will _not_ allow this, Al, for _your_ sake.”

Such conviction. Such true, and authentic obligation to not allow his brother go down the road of thirsting for a man fifteen years his senior, to potentially engage in a relationship with a man that could never, in any universe, be stable - Alphonse is touched. 

Alphonse is also nearly tearing himself at the seams with the attempt to hide his laughter.

His frame is shaking with endeavour to conceal giggles, as Ed sputters out a rant that almost comes off as coherent. There’s some _“I don’t believe this,”_ and _“I thought you’d at least have better tastes”_ and a whole slew of insults directed at the Colonel in his attempt to persuade and convince Alphonse that having affections for the Mustang is perhaps the worst mistake he could ever make; _“because, like, seriously Al, the guy’s a trainwreck. You can do better.”_

The expressions of Ed’s face swim between absolute, unmitigated disgust, that contorts his face into a hilarious ugliness, as well as morphs into something pinched with depression, wallowing in despair that he brought his brother back at the cost of an arm only to have him fall for a _Bastard_.

Ed is still in the midst of his choppy rant, angrily muttering something along the lines of the Colonel being an ingrate when he suddenly comes to a still, face frozen in a contortion of total disbelief.

“Are you - are you _laughing?_ ” Ed asks, flabbergasted.

“ _You should see your face!_ ” Alphonse manages between giggles, and when Ed just stares, dumbfoundead, Alphonse makes no attempt to hide his laughter as he _guffaws_.

“You little -” Ed starts, after a moment of staring at his laughing brother as he slowly pieces together everything, “you fucking - I don’t - did you really just -”

Alphonse snickers, nodding to his brother’s attempt to form the comprehensible question of “ _did you seriously just betray my trust and emotionally scar your own brother as a joke you absolute mongrel?_ ”

Ed _glares_. If looks could kill, Alphonse would be a disintegrated pile of ash.

Alphonse’s laughing fit subsides, even without tear ducts, or lungs, he feels he must take a breath and wipe his face from phantom tears. A few sniggers escape him, as Ed seems intent on staring daggers into Alphonse’s soul.

“I fucking hate you.” Ed scowls.

Alphonse hums, “no you don’t, but you wish you could.”

“I’ll kill you.”

Alphonse lifts a finger, “that’s a hate crime, I thought you said you supported the fact I like boys, brother.”

Ed growls, bringing his hands upwards to rub his face, “you’re unbelievable. You nearly gave me a heart attack, you piece of shit.”

“And here I thought I could reserve the right to like any man I want.” Alphonse tuts, “you’re not very tolerant, are you, brother?”

“You’re killing me, you know that?” Ed says, slumping into the couch, staring at his brother blankly, “you’re killing your brother.”  
  
Alphonse can’t help but snigger, which prompts Ed to continue his lament.

“See here?” Ed says, picking a strand of his blond hair, “it’s a grey hair,” he says, leaning forward to show Alphonse his hair that is definitely not grey, “you’re giving me grey hairs. You’re forcing me to an early grave.”

“Tragic.” Alphonse says, “I’ll make sure to invite the Colonel to your funeral.”  
  
“Do that and I’ll make sure I come back as a poltergeist, idiot.”

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang does not eavesdrop. When he is on a mission that requires listening onto a conversation, he collects intelligence. Under an order and on the pretense of a mission that is potentially concerned with the safety of others, the collection of intelligence is not unethical, if it means protecting others from harm.

He does not eavesdrop. He does not purposely go out of his way to engage in the dishonest act of listening onto a conversation he has no business in (nor the reason to), especially among his subordinates. And most certainly not among _children_.

But there are times wherein words reach his ears without _his_ consent.

He can hardly be blamed, it isn’t his fault that it seems the Elric brothers have no concept of an inside voice (specifically _Edward_ , the banshee).

As it were, he had been walking towards his office to collect paperwork and then head off for the night. That had been the plan, a simple end to his day, that should have gone nicely uninterrupted and without hindrance - but even then, the Elric brothers, even unintentionally, continue to make his life harder.

He was planning to just walk past the door that was the dorm of the Elric brothers when two things caught his attention:

1: The door was slightly ajar, a small slither of light from their dorm pouring into the darkened hallway. Sighing, Mustang had hoped that the boys had at least learned basic decency by now. He’ll close it, and then tell them in the morning the merits of locking their door.

2: Edward’s voice seeping itself into Mustang’s hearing, voice teasing, no doubt directed to his brother, _“-does Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome have a name?”_

Mustang had been reaching for the doorknob when he froze in mid step. He paused, a brow lifting ever so slightly. He wouldn’t say he was… _surprised_ , but it that line of dialogue coming out of Edward’s mouth was not something he expected either.

“ _Well…_ ” came Alphonse’s bashful response, and both of Mustang’s brows hit his hairline. _That_ is what surprised him.

 _Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome_ \- discussing sweethearts, clearly, it would appear that someone had caught Alphonse’s eye. There’s a moment before he ponders who could it be. Winry and the small girl from Xing are out, considering the mystery sweetheart is a “Mr.”(an unanticipated fact about Alphonse but also not surprising).

So then, that prince from Xing? Ling was the only one he could think of that the boys hung around that was actually their age, and could… _Potentially_ (key word being potentially, with a question mark at the end) fit the requirements of “tall, dark and handsome”.

Mustang is brought out of his thoughts when he hears Alphonse’s voice continue.

“ _He is very handsome,_ ” the boy sounds enraptured, and despite himself, Mustang finds the corner of his mouth turn upwards slightly.

 _Ah, young love_ , he muses quietly, Alphonse deserves that. Edward less so.

(It brings him back to his own childhood, young years also yearning the touch of a fellow boy).

“ _hardworking and so dedicated. His voice is nice to listen to, as well._ ”

In any other life, Mustang may have called Alphonse’s cooing _adorable_ , but as it stands, Mustang has a door to close, and papers to get to, and a fourteen year old’s affections aren’t necessarily on the top of his priorities.

He raises his hand to the doorknob once more, but again, Edward’s voice stops him.

“ _Is it… someone I know?_ ”

It brings Mustang back to pondering, because he does actually feel a bubbling curiosity within him. Alphonse doesn’t respond, at least not verbally, but Mustang hears the rustle of metal, and assumes Alphonse has nodded.

“ _Well now you’ve got to tell me._ ” comes Edward’s voice, clearly enthralled in his brother’s potential love life.

“ _Well, I mean -_ “ Alphonse mutters, clearly embarrassed.

Papers need to be done. A door should be closed. And yet, both remain undone.

Mustang reasons with himself it's because knowing the target of Alphonse’s affections will prove as a useful tool in teaching the brothers the values of _closing their goddamn doors at night_. He can picture their faces when he tells them in the morning, subtly indicating that it could have been the boy Alphonse has been crushing on to walk by rather than the Colonel.

Maybe a little cruel - he’d be more ready to do if it were Edward in the situation rather than Alphonse, but it would prove as a good reminder to value their own privacy.

This is the reason he tells himself, as he leans forward slightly and is _absolutely_ not actually curious in knowing who it was that caught Alphonse’s interests.

He hears Edward’s assurances that Alphonse can trust him, and Alphonse sputters out how it is embarrassing.

“ _I promise I won’t laugh,_ ” Mustang has the itching suspicion that Edward is lying, even if the boy has good intention and loves his brother, Mustang knows him well enough that Edward would most likely tease the younger Elric brother regardless.

“ _Fine._ ” Alphonse concedes, and Mustang finds himself holding his breath.

“ _Colonel Must-_ ”

Then Mustang’s eardrums burst.

“ _Colonel Bastard?!_ ” comes Edward’s shrill cry, and Mustang wonders if such a thing as vocal alchemy exists, because he jerks back from the sheer force of Edward’s deafening shout.

Mustang is too busy nursing his own ears and wondering if he’s going to have to make a formal apology to the citizens of Central - hell, the citizens of all _Ametris_ \- for Edward causing them hearing damage, that he has a belated reaction to just whom it is Alphonse has affections for.

Colonel Bastard. Colonel Must-

That’s _him_. _He’s_ that bastard.

Mustang’s brain can’t even keep up with the fact that _Alphonse Elric has a crush on him_ to hear what the younger Elric’s response is, but he makes out the last bit of Edward’s indignant response.

“ _-you’re_ _crazy!_ ”

“ _Brother!_ ”

Alphonse sounds hurt and it - _fuck_ . The Elrics are having a fight because of _him_ and he has no idea how to even digest the information.

Distantly, he’s offended how badly Edward reacts to the news of his brother having feelings for him - but at the same time, he has no idea what feeling he should be feeling himself. His mind is still too busy attempting to process what the fuck is actually happening that he can’t pinpoint an actual emotion.

“ _Just- Just because you don’t like him,_ ” Good God the boy is defending him - it’s almost flattering if it weren’t also slightly mortifying.

“ _Doesn’t mean I can’t love him!_ ”

Love him.

Love -

 _Fucking shit_.

Mustang takes hold of the doorknob and closes door in one swift motion, having it click shut with the sounds of Edward’s aggressive yelling of disapproval before he walks ( _walks_ , he does not speed walk) to the safety of his office to process the information like a normal person.

 

* * *

 

It is the morning after, and Mustang stares steely at his desk, hand clasped in front of him as he leans on his elbows.

It’s just a childish crush. It’s harmless. It’s the same as when a student becomes infatuated with their teacher. It doesn’t mean anything because its just that: infatuation, and it passes. There are plenty instances wherein a child thinks an adult is attractive for whatever reason - whether it be physically attractive or finding their maturity appealing. The child is just infatuated with the _idea_ of the adult, nothing more, nothing less, and it certainly isn’t an actual romance.

Mustang knows, rationally, he should just ignore it. It is his responsibility as an adult to do so. It would be silly and vastly inappropriate to do otherwise, as an adult and as the boy’s commanding officer.

Alphonse is a smart kid. He’ll get over it. The boy probably recognizes it is just infatuation and nothing more.

“ _Doesn’t mean I can’t love him!_ ”

 _Love him_ , love’s a strong word. Alphonse is _smart,_ he cannot seriously make such an admission and think it _serious_ , can he?

It was just said on impulse. An assertion done with blind heightened emotions after confessing to his brother and the fact his brother reacted the way he did. It doesn’t actually mean anything - Mustang knows this, the boy will get over it ( _has to_ ) as soon as he finds another boy his own age with similar interests.

Perhaps it's the fact he doesn’t actually have many friends his age in the first place, interacting primarily in an environment soley populated with adults, that Alphonse has - _inexplicably_ gravitated towards him, for whatever reason.

( _Why_ him? Of all people? He interacts more with Alphonse’s brother than Alphonse himself, how did this happen?)

What was it that Alphonse had said -

“ _hardworking and so dedicated. His voice is nice to listen to, as well._ ”

Flattering. Had he unwittedly seduced a child with his voice?

Mustang inwardly cringes.

And then there are had been the shouting between the boys. Edward’s dislike of Mustang isn’t anything new, nor was it ever something that actually bothered Mustang to any degree. It’s simply an annoying character trait the boy has to make up for the lack of charm he has.

But - the relationship between the brothers have always been something that was admirable. Theirs is a sibling bond that Mustang thinks is the strongest he’s seen in awhile, and it's one that he - although he would never admit it out loud - that made him feel an appreciative warmth within him at the devotion both brothers had for each other.

Seemingly unbreakable, and also seemingly breaking due to the fact Alphonse has a _stupid childish crush_ on Edward’s self proclaimed nemesis.

Mustang hopes that’s not actually the case. Edward’s a brat, a brat with no sense of self control and Alphonse has to make for being the brains between the two of them, but Edward cannot be a brat enough to compromise the relationship with his _own brother_ because Alphonse decided he would garner ( _stupid, childish_ ) feelings for Mustang.

Mustang does no delude himself to have faith in Edward - to do so would be foolish - but he thinks its reasonable that Edward at least has some sense not to be petty enough put his own _familial bond_ at jeopardy over something so stupid.

But Edward is also a child. And he was also very much passionately yelling at his brother over the ordeal.

Mustang almost feels guilty. And it’s positively preposterous.

What if Alphonse decides to do something that could potentially put himself in danger for Mustang? In some sort of terrible way to impress him - to get his attention, what if his infatuation starts to blind him. Mustang doesn’t think he could stomach it. How long had the boy had feelings for him anyway?

“You’re overthinking things, sir.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye’s sudden voice nearly puts him into shock.

He jolts, bringing his head so abruptly upwards to look at her he nearly gets whiplash.

She stands before him nonplussed, her expression carefully blank as per usual. Underneath her elbow she olds a stack of papers encased in a folder - a report that he needs to look over.

When has she come in? Mustang isn’t sure - Hawk’s Eyes she may be, but perhaps Lion’s Prowl is better suited with how damn _quiet_ she can be.

He stares at her, for a moment, before he is able to fully process what she has actually said.

Overthinking things. A neat, two worded summary of his morning, sitting at his desk trying to make sense of Alphonse’s late night confession.

He is overthinking things. Making a problem where there isn’t one, but how had she - ?

“You get that look on your face when you overthink something that doesn’t actually matter, sir,” she continues, and Mustang may have to ask if she’s telekinetic, “and you hadn’t greeted me when I entered, which clearly indicates something is on your mind when it shouldn’t be.”

She continues, her voice flat, “so, to ensure you’re in peak performance, I’m going to request you tell me what it is, exactly, that has you so distracted,” she tilts her head, slightly, before she leans forward to put the report on his desk, “for a distracted Colonel makes for a poor Colonel, sir.”

Mustang meets her stare. She’s right, of course. Always is.

“You’re right,” Mustang begins.

“Always am.” Hawkeye replies.

“It concerns the Elric brothers,” Mustang continues, leaning back into his seat his brow knitted, “specifically - Alphonse. And something I overheard from a conversation between them last night.”

Hawkeye raises one brow minutely, “is it something that concerns the safety of civilians?”  
  
“No.”

“Does it concern the integrity of the Military?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Is it anything at all that could pose any sort of threat, politically, socially, economically?”

“No.”  
  
“Then I do not see the problem, nor a reason to be distracted, sir.”

Oh, where would he be without this woman.

Mustang sighs, rubbing his face, “it is something that concerns me, as an individual, and Alphonse.”  
  
Hawkeye is silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

Mustang takes a deep breath, mostly to prepare himself to actually fully come to terms of what is happening to him.

“Alphonse Elric has a crush on me.” Mustang says, pinching the bridge of his nose. There is no response from Hawkeye, so he continues, “I was walking to my office when I overheard the both of them in their dorm. Their door was still open, and I had planned just to close and carry on but then I heard Alphonse confess his feelings for me to Edward, and Fullmetal promptly threw a fit.”  
  
Mustang looks back up towards Hawkeye, who stares impassively back.

“And?” she asks.

Mustang clenches his jaw. Hawkeye always did have the impressive ability to make him look like a fool with one word or none.

“Nothing more to add,” Mustang says, “Alphonse had said he loved me, and that’s what has me distracted, Lieutenant.”

“You’re distracted because a child likes you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you return his feelings?”  
  
Mustang feels as though he’s been slapped, and he reels back - he blinks up at Hawkeye, momentarily stunned and for a second he chokes on his own words.

“Of course _not_ ,” Mustang sputters, indignant that Hawkeye would even mention such a thing, “I’m distracted because I had never thought I would ever be the target of a childish crush from both a _child_ and my _subordinate_ , not -” Mustang waves his hand vaguely to the space between them, face pinching into disgust at the mere thought.

“Good,” Hawkeye says, breaking Mustang from his stupor, “if you had, I would have shot you were you sat.”

He blinks up at her, before letting out a humourless laugh, “I can always count on you, Hawkeye.”  
  
“That you can, sir.”  
  
Hawkeye continues to stare at him impassively, inviting Mustang to elaborate further on his problem-that-shouldn’t-be-a-problem.

Mustang taps his fingers against his desk, “I’m just - not entirely sure how to handle the situation, Lieutenant.”

“There isn’t a situation that needs to be handled, sir.” Hawkeye says, “Alphonse having feelings for you does not put anyone in danger. Likewise, his feelings will subside once he regains his standards.”

Again, Mustang feels as though he’s been slapped for the second time that morning.

He looks up at her, unsure if he should feel comfort at such a statement, or insulted.

She doesn’t give him the time to respond, “But if it further proves to be a distraction, then might I suggest turning down the boy, and making it clear you’re not interested, to hasten the process of him regaining his standards?”

Mustang snorts, and then he sighs, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“Do you have suggestions on how to accomplish such a task, Lieutenant?”

“Speaking to him would be a good start, sir.”

Well. She isn’t wrong.

“You’re making a problem wherein one doesn’t exist, sir.”

She still isn’t wrong.

Mustang sighs once more, “you’re right, Lieutenant. I’ll speak to the boy when I can about the manner.”  
  
Hawkeye gives a small, curt nod, before she gestures to the report, “the report you requested from the Elric’s brother’s excursion at East City. Perhaps it would be better to be distracted with that than with Alphonse’s feelings, sir.”  
  
Mustang waves his hand in defeat, “thank you Lieutenant. Dismissed.”  
  
Hawkeye turns swiftly on her heel and walks towards to door, before she pauses and looks over her shoulder at Mustang.

“ _Do_ try to let him down _gently_ , sir.”

And with that, she leaves his office.

 

* * *

 

It is not until week after the initial conversation with Hawkeye that Mustang is given a chance to speak with Alphonse.

He’s not _avoiding_ the boy by any means - the brothers had been given another quick assignment, and Mustang cannot control how long or short the two Elrics decide to be away from Central.

In the short window before they had left, Mustang had silently studied the brothers - their relationship seemed fine, at the very least. As if the shouting match they had after Alphonse’s confession hadn’t happen.

Attempting to keep the integrity of their public appearances entact? Edward hardly ever has the tact for that, nor does he ever seem to want to do in any other situations. But then again, Alphonse is his brother, so even if he clearly and wholeheartedly doesn’t approve of where Alphonse’s affections lie, he may be persuaded not to actively flaunt his disapproval in public.

In fact, everything seems - normal. Edward continues to make petty remarks to him when they speak, Alphonse sometimes shares a word or two with him but other than that, Mustang and the younger Elric brother don’t actively interact with one another.

When they do engage with each other, Mustang searches for clues - shy inflections of his voice, awkward body language - but he finds himself with little results. Alphonse is better at hiding his feelings than he originally thought, which makes him dread the thought that perhaps the boy has had feelings for him longer than he initially thought.

He could just drop the whole affair, but with the knowledge that Alphonse does have feelings for him, he doesn’t want to run the risk that it eventually evolves into a true hindrance for either of them. Alphonse’s feelings may be hurt from Mustang talking to him, but better that than let the fires continue to be stroked.

Mustang will ask Alphonse for a word in his office. There he will firstly compliment the boy on a job well done on the assignment, to make him more at ease, before telling Alphonse he knows that the boy has feelings to. He will explain carefully how such feelings are inappropriate due to their age difference and rank, and he has faith Alphonse won’t make too much of a fuss. They’ll part ways and never speak of any of this again. Perhaps when they’re older, they’ll laugh over the ordeal.

(He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Alphonse actually starts crying. He’s barely equipped to deal with children as is, let alone crying ones).

“Alphonse.” Mustang calls from the doorway to his office, prompting not only both Elric brothers to turn their heads towards him, but also the sights of other fellow Military personnel such as Breda and Havoc who are also in the room.

“A word,” Mustang continues, his voice flat, “in my office, if you don't mind.”

He can tell that literally everyone in the room is confused, and Edward looks back and forth at his brother and Mustang, a crease of annoyance seeping into his expression.

“Uh,” Alphonse starts, and Mustang momentarily regrets drawing attention to the boy - not to mention it must be part ways exhilarating and awkward to have his crush speak directly to him, and to speak in private. But this is a conversation better done sooner rather than later.

“Coming Colonel,” Alphonse says, after sharing a glance to his brother, who huffs and folds his arms and stares disapprovingly towards Mustang’s direction, before Alphonse walks towards Mustang.

Mustang closes the door behind Alphonse, sighing after the door clicks shut.

For a moment, his hand stays on the doorknob, waiting, before he twists it and opens the door again, suddenly.

He is met with a thud, and Edward’s angry squawk.

“Son of a -”

“Typically when I ask for people to meet me in my office,” Mustang drawls, cooly, looking down at Fullmetal, who had fallen on his rear after receiving a blow to the head from the door he was attempting to eavesdrop through, “I mean _in private_ , Fullmetal, and not accompanied with wandering ears.”

Havoc sniggers in the background, and Edward wrinkles his nose at him. He appears to want to make a retort, but is silenced when Alphonse groans and says his characteristic line of “ _Brother,_ ” in an exasperated tone.

Edward lifts himself and waves his hands in defeat, “fine, fine, I’ll go wait on the fucking couch,” he grumbles. Mustang resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Mustang closes the door again, before walking towards his desk, sitting his chair and leans on his elbows, staring at Alphonse for a moment.

“Good work on your most recent assignment,” Mustang says - technically a lie, he hasn’t actually read their report to make that assumption yet.

Alphonse shifts on his feet, clearly nervous being alone with the target of his affections. Mustang prays this conversation ends well - Edward’s ire he can handle, but a potential heartbroken Alphonse? He isn’t quite so sure.

“Thank you, Colonel,” Alphonse replies, “it’s really all my brother, he did the most -”  
  
He stops when Mustang waves a hand at him, “you’re too modest,” Mustang finds himself muttering - and immediately regrets it. He does not want to be misconstrued as flirting with the boy.

Alphonse laughs, bringing a hand to rub the back of his helmet, and Mustang brings his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose - _Focus_ , he berates himself, _you’re not here to talk about his skills_.

“There is something I need to speak with you with,” Mustang begins, slowly, attempting to choose his words carefully, “it concerns a conversation I overheard between you and your brother and I don’t - want you to be upset.”

Mustang inwardly cringes, he needs to get to the point, not scare the boy.

Alphonse immediately stills, staring quietly down at Mustang, waiting for him to continue.

Mustang licks his lips, “I’m - _flattered_ ,” his starts, “that you have feelings for me.”  
  
The air within the room is so heavy with painful uncomfortableness it’s almost palpable.

Mustang quickly continues, not wanting Alphonse to get the wrong idea, “but you must understand that it is something that can never be reciprocated, for multiple reasons.”

Alphonse continues to stare, doing an efficient job at imitating a statue. Mustang takes the stunned silence as a result that Alphonse needs to digest the news that his crush doesn’t - and will not - love him back, and he hopes when Alphonse returns to the present, that it doesn’t overwhelm him.

“For instance,” Mustang continues carefully, “you are a child, and I’m an adult. It is not only illegal, but immoral of me to ever engage in a relationship with you.”

He levels Alphonse with a stare, which is met back.

“Do you understand, Alphonse?”

“I - uh - “ Alphonse says, seemingly snapped out of a trance, and Mustang winces at his bubbling attempts at a response.

“I mean - “Alphonse attempts again, trying to regain his composure, “ you - _what?_ ”

His voice is so heavily laden with pure confusion that Mustang scrubs at his face with his hands to clear his mind, to think of a way to make this as easy as he can for Alphonse.

“It’s inappropriate, Alphonse,” Mustang says, slowly, “you are merely infatuated with me, not actually in love with me.”  
  
“What - _What is going on?_ ”  
  
Mustang internally groans, attempting to find the next course of action that would put Alphonse more at ease. The boy is clearly distressed - Mustang hoped he hadn’t been pining for too long for him to create a fantasy of himself, but it appears he might have, and now he is having that fantasy crumbling around him.

“Alphonse,” Mustang snaps and it makes Alphonse flinch - but he needs the boy to focus - “you cannot continue to harbour feelings for me. It does not help either of us. I act as your commanding officer, which would make it even more wholly unethical.”

“B- But, I - “ Alphonse stutters, shaking himself, “ _what - ?_ ”

Mustang cuts him off, not willing to hear any sort of tirade of how Alphonse truly loves him, or whatever such nonsense, “I have no doubts that in due time you will find yourself a boyfriend.”  
  
For whatever reason, the assertion seems to work - it gets Alphonse to snap still, and stare silently and intently at Mustang.

He hopes the words’ effect are that he is thinking over other potential sweethearts, and getting over Mustang. A part of him wishes that Alphonse had a face, it would be easier to read what he is feeling if he had expressions to show.

Mustang gives a weak smile, taking Alphonse’s silence and attention as an opportunity to continue and not let Alphonse wallow in a broken heart, “and he’ll be able to take care of you, more than I could ever do.”

“ I - oh. Okay, I just - ?”

Mustang once more cuts him off, he does not want to have the boy to revert back into confused remorse if he were to think about his lost fantasy with him, “I want you to know this does not change things between us. And I would hope you are able to conduct yourself in a professional manner when you leave.”

“Y-yeah, I just - well - I mean -”

“Do I make myself clear, Alphonse?”  
  
“Y-yes, Colonel?”  
  
Perhaps the relief that floods him is too much of a over encompassing waterfall, that he does not realize that Alphonse phrased it as a question rather than actual confirmation.

“Excellent,” Mustang says, clapping his hands together before rising to his feet. Alphonse makes a few more attempts to squeak something out, but Mustang hushes him as he directs the boy to the door.

“I’m glad we had this talk,” Mustang says (he isn’t), “and that you understand that a relationship between us would never work.”  
  
“Okay but - ?”  
  
“And that you should focus your efforts on someone else,”  
  
“But Colonel -”  
  
“And there is a boy out there that will share your same feelings, but you must find him first.”  
  
“T-Thanks, Colonel, but - “  
  
Mustang opens the door for him, “Dismissed, Alphonse.”  
  
Alphonse jolts, looking between Mustang the outside where his brother and the others are still waiting, “O-Oh, okay.” He mutters, before he waddles out of the room.

Mustang closes the door, leans against it, and sighs.

* * *

 

Alphonse has read plenty on the theory of multiple dimensions - that the reality he lives in is just one of thousands, millions, countless other realities that are layered upon each other. As if the existence was an endless book, with each page being a whole different and unique reality.

Alphonse enjoyed such theories, and wondered if it could be possible to prove that numerous dimensions exist through alchemy. But while certainly interested, it wasn’t his favourite topic to explore.

Now, however, he may have to look back into it, because he’s certain he may have just stepped into an altered reality.

Was there some sort of rift in the fabric of space? Was he momentarily transported into a world that looked like his own, but was - _off_ , somehow, uncanny, and askew, familiar but at the same time disturbing.

He isn’t entirely convinced the person he had just spoken to was Colonel Mustang at all. An odd facsimile, more like.

When he walks out of Mustang’s (Not-Mustang?) office, everything suddenly seems normal. The air is normal. The walls are normal. The people are normal. He stands still for a moment, attempting to make sense of what had just happened and doesn’t notice that everyone else is currently staring at him.

Mustang - or whoever ( _what_ ever?) was wearing his face - had thought Alphonse harboured feelings for him. It was eerie, it looked like Mustang, sounded like Mustang, but it acted as though it only vaguely knew the Colonel’s mannerisms.

Was it Mustang? Yes, probably, Alphonse knows this rationally, but the fact that the Colonel had to speak privately with him about - about _feelings_ had thrown him for such a loop that he can’t make any sense of it. There’s nothing rational about it. It’s horrific. He never wants to speak to the Colonel about feelings ever again. What had just happened to him?

_“I have no doubts that in due time you will find yourself a boyfriend.”_

It’s perhaps the most intriguing part of the whole exchange - the Colonel wishing him luck in finding a boyfriend is both equal parts absolutely touching, and also nauseating. The whole affair was constant whiplash on his senses.  
  
He shakes himself, attempted to get back to the present - and hopefully his own reality - he's going to need the rest of the week to try and understand anything that has just happened. He’ll have to ask Mustang later for more clarification if he can, and perhaps to see if the Colonel will even remember the interaction (because if it wasn’t him, then it stands to reason he wouldn’t remember, right?).

He walks quietly towards Ed, he peers up to him curiously with an odd look on his face.

“You alright?” his brother asks with a tilt of the head.

Truthfully, Alphonse doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know what to rightly feel. But when he responds, staring off into the distance, he replies honestly.

“I think I’m losing my mind, brother.”

He really needs to sit down. Think over the events that have just happened. In his peripheral, he vaguely registers that Ed’s eyes have turned murderous, and Alphonse only realizes his brother has left his side when Ed kicks down Mustang’s door with force and yells, _“What did you do?!”_

“Uh,” Havoc says, attempting to inch out of the room.

“Get _out_ , Fullmetal,” Mustang snarls back, and Alphonse turns to the sound of his brother furiously shouting, “Not until you fucking explain what you said to Al, fucker!”

Alphonse slumps, wanting to curl on himself and cease to existence as he hears Mustang and Ed exchange profanities.

This is going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! ^^ thanks for reading!


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